Third Girl

She had outside friends to dinner here sometimes. No, I wouldn't say she was specially pally with anybody here. You'd do best," said Joe, getting slightly restive, "to go and have a chat with Mr. McFarlane who's in charge here if you want to know about her." "Ah, I thank you. Yes, that is what I mean to do." "His office is in that block over there, sir. On the ground floor. You'll see it marked up on the door." Poirot went as directed. He detached from his brief-case the top letter with which Miss Lemon had supplied him, and which was marked "Mr. McFarlane".

Mr. McFarlane turned out to be a goodlooking, shrewd-looking man of about forty-five. Poirot handed him the letter.

He opened and read it.

"Ah yes," he said, "I see." He laid it down on the desk and looked at Poirot.

"The owners have instructed me to give you all the help I can about the sad death of Mrs. Louise Charpentier. Now what do you want to know exactly. Monsieur" - he glanced at the letter again - "Monsieur Poirot?" "This is, of course, all quite confidential," said Poirot. "Her relatives have been communicated with by the police and by a solicitor, but they were anxious as I was coming to England, that I should get a few more personal facts, if you understand me. It is distressing when one can get only official reports." "Yes, quite so. Yes, I quite understand that it must be. Well, I'll tell you anything lean." "How long had she been here and how did she come to take the flat?" "She'd been here - I can look it up exactly - about two years. There was a vacant tenancy and I imagine that the lady who was leaving, being an acquaintance of hers, told her in advance that she was giving it up. That was a Mrs. Wilder Worked for the B.B.C. Had been in London for some time, but was going to Canada. Very nice lady - I don't think she knew the deceased well at all. Just happened to mention she was giving up the flat. Mrs. Charpentier liked the flat." "You found her a suitable tenant?" There was a very faint hesitation before Mr. McFarlane answered: "She was a satisfactory tenant, yes." "You need not mind telling me," said Hercule Poirot. "There were wild parties, eh? A little too - shall we say - gay in her entertaining?" Mr. McFarlane stopped being so discreet.

"There were a few complaints from time to time, but mostly from elderly people." Hercule Poirot made a significant gesture.

"A bit too fond of the bottle, yes, sir - and in with quite a gay lot. It made for a bit of trouble now and again." "And she was fond of the gentlemen?" "Well, I wouldn't like to go as far as that.59 "No, no, but one understands." "Of course she wasn't so young." "Appearances are very often deceptive.

How old would you have said she was?" "It's difficult to say. Forty-fortyfive." He added, "Her health wasn't good, you know." "So I understand." "She drank too much - no doubt about it. And then she'd get very depressed.

Nervous about herself. Always going to doctors, I believe, and not believing what they told her. Ladies do get it into their heads - especially about that time of life -she thought that she had cancer. Was quite sure of it. The doctor reassured her but she didn't believe him. He said at the inquest that there was nothing really wrong with her. Oh well, one hears of things like that every day. She got all worked up and one final day -" he nodded.

"It is very sad," said Poirot. "Did she have any special friends among the residents of the flats?" "Not that I know of. This place, you see, isn't what I call the matey kind.

They're mostly people in business, in jobs." "I was thinking possibly of Miss Claudia Reece-Holland. I wondered if they had known each other." "Miss Reece-Holland? No, I don't think so. Oh I mean they were probably acquaintances, talked when they went up in the lift together, that sort of thing. But I don't think there was much social contact of any kind. You see, they would be in a different generation. I mean-" Mr.

McFarlane seemed a little flustered. Poirot wondered why.

He said, "One of the other girls who share Miss Holland's flat knew Mrs.

Charpentier, I believe-Miss Norma Restarick." "Did she? I wouldn't know - she's only come here quite recently, I hardly know her by sight. Rather a frightenedlooking young lady. Not long out of school, I'd say." He added, "Is there anything more I can do for you, sir?" "No, thank you. You've been most kind.

I wonder if possibly I could see the flat.

Just in order to be able to say -" Poirot paused, not particularising what he wanted to be able to say.

"Well, now, let me see. A Mr. Travers has got it now. He's in the City all day.

Yes, come up with me if you like, sir." They went up to the seventh floor. As Mr. McFarlane introduced his key one of the numbers fell from the door and narrowly avoided Poirot's patent-leather shoe. He hopped nimbly and then bent to pick it up. He replaced the spike which fixed it on the door very carefully.

"These numbers are loose," he said.

"I'm very sorry, sir. I'll make a note of it.